Ashayam Beloved
by recumbentgoat
Summary: Spock and Uhura have a heart to heart talk. I'm not black, nor do I have Uhura's texture of hair, but I don't really see these issues, completely disappearing in Roddenberry's future. Previous story: 30 Dates Next story: The Story of S


Character/Pairing: Uhura/Spock, Sulu, Charlene Masters

Rating: M

It was still early in their relationship. They were still getting to know the feel of each other's skin, the silent communication of glances and eyebrows on the bridge, the occasional nervous pause in conversation, the worry that arose when one was part of a landing party.

It had been a few months since Spock had first inquired Uhura about changing the nature of their relationship. They were just leaving Recreation at the end of Charlene Masters' surprise birthday party. Uhura smiled slightly at the knowing looks Sulu and Masters exchanged as she and Spock left together. Her friends knew. And they were still in a little shock by the whole thing. She laughed to herself, causing Spock to glance over in puzzlement. If they only knew how expressive Spock could be. Especially since she'd found out Spock's secret. He had very _very_ sensitive hands—and she'd been playing havoc with them all evening.

So when he crushed her lips to his before barely getting inside her quarters, she wasn't surprised by his intensity. Nor was he surprised when she leapt on him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed. They were both past the point of being only careful lovers.

They tugged, pulled and wrenched their clothes off in a race to her bed, falling on top of the covers, Spock rolling her over onto her back. He fitted his cock to her and pushed in quickly. His mind was hazed with lust from the seemingly casual stroking and accidental touching by Uhura's hands on his all night long. His biocontrols had been thoroughly taxed, but he hadn't cared about the knowing looks he'd gotten when he suggested to Uhura, through somewhat gritted teeth, that they finally leave the party.

Uhura flung her head back moaning and relished Spock's strength in holding her up as he slammed into her over and over again. He suddenly pulled out and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. She planted her shoulder on the bed and looked back at Spock. His face was tightly drawn and his black eyes were intense as he loomed over her. He entered her completely and she closed her eyes as he began pumping into her steadily.

She was close to coming, her breathing hitched as Spock grabbed her hair and pulled her head up. She felt something come loose and her head felt lighter suddenly as something brushed her naked back. She knew what it was, but couldn't care enough to think save for the sensation of Spock filling her over and over again. By then, her climax was upon her and she barely registered Spock's own muffled groan of her name as he came and collapsed slowly on top of her.

They dozed for an hour or so before she felt Spock sit-up. Uhura opened her eyes and stretched, her hands going to her head as she realized that it had been true. Spock had accidentally dislodged the wig she'd been wearing. She cringed and turned over to look up at him.

Spock was sitting up against her headboard looking down at the wig, idly stroking the hair and somewhat absently turning it over in his hands. 'Nyota, I must confess that I was astonished when….this….came off in my hands. It was entirely unforeseen. I could not have imagined it.'

'You and me both, Spock. You and me both.' She took off her wig cap and ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it up a bit. She would not get embarrassed by Spock seeing her like this. She would not crawl into a hole in the ground in utter humiliation. She sighed and closed her eyes. 'Awkward, isn't it?'

'I must apologize for damaging your hair, Nyota. My only excuse is that I simply did not know you wore a wig. May I inquire as to why you wear one since it seems that you already have hair?'

She sighed and sat up, crawling up the bed to sit with him against the headboard. She took the wig from his fingers. 'Well, it's easier for me to change looks with wigs. I've been growing my hair out and that's why this thing probably came off so easily.' She smiled sheepishly up at him. 'I guess I should've warned you against touching my hair.'

'Is there a reason why you have always worn this?' His eyes were still openly puzzled.

She shrugged, 'A lot of the women I know wear wigs. And when I came on the ship, I just kept wearing it since I got so many compliments on it. You know that Chapel, Rand and Moreau wear wigs, right?'

'I do not normally dwell on the appearances of female crew members.' He quirked his eyebrow at her.

Her own brows rose, 'Did you really think that was Rand's own hair?'

'I never would have noticed had she stopped wearing it. The same goes for the others, which leads me to again inquire about the reason you continued whereas others changed.'

Uhura shrugged again, 'Habit, I guess. But I was getting tired of it.' She fluffed her hair some more. Then decided to stuff it all back under the wig cap, feeling less…exposed.

'Nyota, you seem…upset about this. May I ask why?' He put his hand on her forearm, as if to get a better read on her emotions.

'Spock, it's not every day that I can say my hair got snatched off my head in the midst of hot sex.' She laughed a little too loudly, her ears burning. She looked down at the wig in her hands.

His long fingers lifted her chin back up so that she looked at him. 'I have often observed that humans have a tendency to cover their pain with laughter and jokes. You do not have to do so with me.'

Her eyes slid away from his, 'Another habit, I guess. Just another coping mechanism.'

Spock frowned and lowered his hand, 'Are you implying that your wig is a coping mechanism?' He rubbed her forearm with his thumb slowly, 'You are....anxious?'

She groaned, 'Oh god, this is what I get for sleeping with a touch telepath.'

His eyebrows rose high into his bangs, but he was silent and waited for her to continue.

'Yes, I guess I'm a little shy. I'm not like Charlene.' She sighed.

'I do not understand. What does this have to do with Lieutenant Masters?'

'Charlene has always worn natural styles.'

'Natural? Again, I am afraid I do not understand.'

'Just without straightening it or wearing wigs or having extensions or anything like that. It's just something she's always done. It's been different for me.'

'I...think I understand. What I do not understand, however, is your reaction to what seems to be a simple change in hairstyle. If you say it is different for you, I am at a loss as to why that would be.'

'It's just that...there was a time when I was much younger when I thought straighter hair was prettier. Charlene's never really wrestled with that for some reason. I've gotten over it, sure.... maybe not as much as I thought. Well, I guess I got worried as to what you might think of seeing the real me. I've never let anyone else.'

'Not even McCoy?' Spock instantly regretted the way he reflexively pounced on her words.

'No! Not even McCoy! God! What a thing to say!'

'I...apologize. I only assumed given the closeness of your friendship....'

'Spock, stop fishing. No--I have never had a romantic relationship with McCoy. We're just good friends. And even if we had been involved, I wouldn't tell him anything like this, it's just too personal.'

'I...thank you for clarifying. It is gratifying that you would confide in me what you would not with McCoy. However....' He paused as he waited for Uhura to stop groaning. 'Nyota, I only have one more question.'

'Yes, yes! Go on.'

'I do not understand your anxiety regarding the 'real you'. What do you mean by that?'

'Oh Spock, it's all rather complicated, illogical human stuff.' She waved her hand.

'I _am_ half human.'

'Yes....but Spock, your mom's white and I don't think these were the kinds of things she had to think or talk about.' She shrugged yet again.

'True, I had not accounted for that difference. However, given that I am in a relationship with you...it would be in my interest to understand exactly what these complicated, illogical things are.'

She smiled softly, 'Yes, I suppose it is.' She breathed deep and exhaled slowly, 'So, anyway, when I was younger, I always thought I needed to straighten my hair to feel pretty. Like I said, it took me a while to get over feeling this way.'

'How old were you?'

'Around five or so.' She tilted her head, lost in thought. 'It's not as though this were something that was really prevalent in my family. My mother and grandmother were very beautiful women who were confident and proud. But I had an aunt who had silky, straight hair and was light and I so wanted to be like her. She was successful. She was going places.'

'Where did she go?' Spock said frowning.

She stifled a laugh, 'I meant that she was going to have a successful career. And she did—she was one of the first in the family to go out into space. She's an engineer on Mars now. She just seemed to have a really exciting, focused life—she wasn't going to wind up being planet-side like everyone else in my family. Later though, when I went to boarding school abroad, there weren't a lot of black girls like me that I could really relate to. I always seemed to be getting pushed aside, ignored by boys, teachers even. It seemed like nothing was ever really right about me. Like I was invisible.' She shrugged, but the pain, though distant, was still there. 'When you're a teenager, being noticed by boys means something. I went home after that, but I guess the damage was already done. Once something like that gets inside you—it just grabs hold, you know? It touches you so deep you start thinking you'd been born like that, not some twisted thing you just picked up.'

'How old were you when you began to understand your thought process?'

'Oh, gosh, by then I was in prep school getting ready for the Academy admissions test. There's nothing like an intensive history course on colonization and white beauty standards to give you perspective.' She laughs at this. 'You know, even though skin bleaching was outlawed in parts of twentieth century Africa, the practice stayed, you know? I can remember my grandmother talking about it. Women share techniques, they talk about how their men find it sexy. So it keeps on. Officially, it's bad, but unofficially? It's there, it just goes underground.' She shakes her head sadly. 'We all know we should love who we are just on general principal, but it seems as though we've all gone through that phase of constant self-criticism.'

'Two hundred years is not a very long time for ideas to lose traction, especially if those negative ideas are reinforced in popular culture.'

'Yeah, that's certainly true. After African unification, there was a big push to protect local culture by supporting their artists. That's how my great grandfather made his money. He produced films that promoted our own values and stories. It showed us we had a place in Earth's future and it looked like us too.'

Spock listened to everything she said though his frown had not gone away. 'At the Academy, command track cadets are required to learn about Western colonization of what became known later as 'Third World' countries. It is believed that learning this history leads to a greater understanding of why Starfleet implements the Prime Directive.'

'I suppose Vulcan doesn't have an equivalent.' Uhura looks at Spock, who looks back at her, puzzled. Uhura prompts, 'Of things like colonization and exploitation.'

'Not that I am aware of. However, Vulcan has been unified as a planet for thousands of years. Any historical record of those initial conflicts have long been lost.'

'Mmmmhm. So are you satisfied with my answer?'

'Nyota, you have done much to explain to me, for which I am grateful. It must not have been easy to reveal something so deeply personal.' He opened his arms to her and she nestled into his shoulder. He smoothed back the hair sticking out from underneath her cap and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

She sighed and admitted to herself that she felt more relaxed having spoken with Spock. 'I suppose I've made a mountain out of a molehill in explaining all of this to you. I hadn't thought of this stuff in years. I mean, I get a lot of enjoyment using my wigs and stuff. What woman doesn't, you know?'

Spock strokes her arm softly, steadily. 'Yet it was something that you dealt with in the past. I would surmise that such things do not disappear completely within ourselves.' He looked down at her, 'Ashayam, I do not care in what way you prefer to wear your hair. You are always beautiful to me. But it does help me to understand you better.'

She nods against his shoulder, sleepy from their talk now that the initial embarrassment and anxiety has passed.

Spock keeps stroking her arm and shoulder, knowing that it is soothing her to sleep. He wants to tell her of his own pain growing up as a hybrid child outcast, but knows he will at some later point in the future. He feels her mind slowly unwind and drift into a grey sea of calm. He lowers his mental shields, letting his mind brush up against hers. He doesn't read her thoughts, just lets her dream impressions sink into his consciousness.

She dreams of herself when she was a little girl. Sitting on a chair, her hair being combed and parted and tied with ribbons. His hand stops and rests on her arm. One of her dreams has morphed into something else. No-- someone else.

She is sitting on the same chair, with thick, curly hair being parted and combed and tied up in ribbons as before. Spock tries to mentally grab hold of the image to get a clearer look. She is squirming, but laughing impishly, with sandalwood skin and delicate pointed ears and tiny eyebrows that sweep upwards. Nyota is smiling at her in the mirror, her hands busy with their daughter's hair.

Spock closes his eyes and lets the image float away. Perhaps this is what truly made Nyota feel so exposed and vulnerable, for she already foresaw a future with him. He knows it is his humanity that causes his heart to swell and he doesn't push it away. He feels closer to her than ever, feels blessed that he has her trust and knows that he has already fallen deeply in love with her.


End file.
